Adrian was folding his heavy charcoal trousers into the tan leather suitcase, the one we bought for our anniversary trip to Savannah. He did not usually touch the laundry, let alone stack his shirts with such sharp, neat corners.
I stood by the wicker hamper, folding Leo’s grass-stained soccer socks.
A damp Virginia wind rattled the bedroom windows, carrying the chill of early September.
“The red tie is in the cedar chest,” I said, my voice soft and even.
He did not look up from his packing. “I will not be needing the red one where I am going.”
He smoothed the lapels of three navy blazers, then checked his gold watch. He had been doing that every few minutes since he woke up at six.
“The boys will be home from school in three hours,” I said.
“They will stay at their regular afternoon activities today,” Adrian said, closing the brass buckles on the suitcase. “We have to look at this like a restructuring, Mrs. Lane.”
He used my legal married name like a stranger at a county desk.
I rubbed my silver wedding band, the metal cool and familiar against my knuckle.
“Are you leaving us, Adrian?”
“I am filing for divorce,” he said, setting the heavy suitcase on the floor. “I have already retained Russell Crane.”
The name of the county’s most aggressive corporate attorney hung between us like a physical weight.
“This house belongs to my family,” I said.
“The house was refinanced under the transit firm’s holding company last spring,” Adrian said, his voice flat. “It is a corporate asset now.”
“You did not tell me about that,” I said.
“You did not ask,” he said, adjusting his cuffs.
He stood near the dresser, his large frame blocking the gray light from the hallway. He looked exactly like the celebrated chief executive who spoke at the regional transit conferences, solid and unshakable.
“We both know who built this family, Adrian,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“The family is built on capital, Mrs. Lane, and capital belongs to the corporation,” he said.
He picked up his tan suitcase and walked out, his heavy leather shoes thudding against the pine floorboards.
